


The Worst of Us

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: 30 Days of Whump-Ironstrange Edition [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 Day Whump Prompt Challenge, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, Suicidal Thoughts, vampire Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 09:54:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: Tony couldn't bear to watch Stephen die from his crash and took steps to make sure he'd live.Day 2: Hunger





	The Worst of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the prompt list can be found in the first story :)
> 
> Note: These will not be daily uploads, just when inspiration strikes.
> 
> Day 2: Hunger

“Stephen?”

No answer. Tony sighed heavily, letting his head fall forward with a hard thump against Stephen’s door. There was no sound of movement from within, but the sun had set ten minutes ago and there was no way Stephen couldn’t hear him.

“Stephen, come on.”

The words were a pained whisper. Tony was tired, so god damn tired of this stupid dance that was played out again and again. His lover wasn’t adjusting as well as he should be and Tony didn’t know what to say, what words could possibly convince Stephen that it was ok, that he wasn’t a monster.

“Please. For me.”

The door swung open suddenly enough to startle Tony into stepping back, eyes widening at the sight of Stephen standing in front of him. He didn’t look well, was the first observation. Stephen had always been pale but since the transformation he’d gone several shades whiter, though now, instead of appearing ethereal, he just looked sickly.

Beneath his kaleidoscope eyes, were deep bruises that in a normal person meant exhaustion, but in Stephen meant hunger, and the final giveaway to just how dire the situation had become, were the fangs jutting out slightly from behind a perfect row of teeth.

Tony swallowed thickly, tried to ignore the tingling sensation emanating from his neck, where twin punctures stood out starkly, “Stephen?”

Stephen winced, as though hearing his voice physically pained him, “go home Tony.”

That wasn’t going happen, not until he made sure Stephen had fed. It might be his own fault that Stephen had become this creature and Stephen might hate him for it, but Tony would be damned if he’d risk losing him again.

It was how they got into this mess in the first place.

The crunch of metal, the splitting of skin, the cold-water creeping in. Tony hadn’t been able to do it, couldn’t sit at Stephen’s bedside while he died, and the doctors looked on with pity. Maybe that made him weak. He didn’t care.

“Let me in.”

Stephen looked down at him for a long moment, hand on the doorframe flexing, throat spasming lightly. His control was shot, that much was obvious, luckily that was exactly what Tony came here to fix. Stephen’s eyes fell, lingered on Tony’s throat, before he abruptly took a step back, revealing the darkened interior of his apartment. While he should be relieved that he was allowed in at all, the very existence of the apartment chafed him. Stephen should be at home, in their bed, by his side.

He walked in and didn’t bother turning on the lamps. It had been almost two months and Stephen’s sensitivity to artificial light was still strong. In theory, he should have been at full strength in two weeks. That was the healthy timeline for a vampire, but Stephen wasn’t healthy, wasn’t feeding like he should.

Tony perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, his eyes drawn to Stephen, locked on the graceful movements as he followed and sat across from him. The distance between them was barely five feet but it felt like a chasm, uncrossable, marked with betrayal and anger and loss.

He just wanted to touch Stephen. He thought about it constantly, yearned for the feeling of his cool skin beneath his, the sensation of another body in his bed. It used to be his right, his privilege to touch Stephen so casually. It had been yet another casualty of the crash and Tony’s subsequent decisions. He’d bear the agony of that loss so long as he was allowed to see Stephen, to know he was real and here and continuing.

There was of course, one moment in which he could touch. It never lasted long, and it took ages to convince Stephen every time. The bruises and twin punctures in his neck made it worth it every damn time.

“Tony.”

The sound of that voice pained and familiar, when so many other things had changed, brought him back to the present. Stephen was hunched in on himself, fingers digging into the upholstery as if to hold himself back, teeth digging into his pale lips.

Tony swallowed, “you need to feed.”

Stephen’s eyes fell closed like he’d been given a death sentence. Tony tried to ignore the guilt that twisted his stomach, reminded himself of that early morning when the doctors told him Stephen would die. This was worth it. It had to be.

Tony stood and stepped closer, waiting and watching for any response. There was none. Stephen remained stiff, eyes closed, and head tilted slightly away. So, he moved closer and closer until there was barely any space between them all.

Stephen had to make the next move. Tony had studied a lot in the days since the change had happened and he knew better then to force himself upon a predator and besides, he needed Stephen to give in himself.

Several long minutes passed in which Tony stared down at Stephen, waiting. There was something in the air, charging it in a way so different to their last few meetings. The antagonism was gone, the frustration, even the desperation. This was important, this moment, whatever it was.

Stephen’s head swayed back toward him, but those beautiful kaleidoscope eyes remained stubbornly closed.

The fingers still gripping the cushions unclenched, reached slowly forward until they could wrap around Tony’s wrists, just shy of too tight. He looked his fill, taking in the elegant limbs, no longer scarred and broken.

“Kill me.”

The pained whisper made Tony’s head snap up. Stephen’s face was twisted into one of sorrow, those beautiful eyes opened and shadowed with agony, “please.”

Tony could feel his heart speed up as a combination of fear and devastation ripped its way through his body, leaving behind nothing but a brutalized, broken carcass of a man. He looked down at Stephen and what he had become because Tony couldn’t bear the thought of him dying and hated himself and his treacherous heart.

If he could, he would. If only to earn back the man he loved.

“I can’t,” Tony choked out. “I’m sorry.”

Stephen’s entire body seemed to crumble as he shook and if he could cry Tony didn’t doubt his face would be streaked with it. As it was, Stephen only shook and sobbed a sound that came out hollow in his cavernous chest.

Tony fell to his knees, no longer able to keep his feet. Ignoring his instincts to step away from an unstable predator, Tony reached up and ran his fingers through Stephen’s hair, cupped his cheek and blinked back his own tears. He didn’t have the right.

“I need you,” Tony murmured. “I can’t do this without you, I couldn’t let you die. Please. Please. Stay. I need you.” The words flowed automatically, even as he knew they would never be enough to staunch the wound he’d given Stephen with his choice.

Stephen swayed forward again, those hands coming up to grip Tony’s head and there was something vengeful in the tightness of the grip, the barely there control. He didn’t fight it, simply closed his eyes.

Tony let his head be guided until his neck was bared. Inhaled once as pinpricks of pain pierced his skin before euphoria washed over him. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but the simple fact that Stephen was feeding from him, was enough to leave him with hope.


End file.
